


12 Days of Ficmas 2016: Candy Canes

by PoppyAlexander



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dress Up, Jewel in the Tower verse, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, Xie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: Set in the world of The Jewel in the Tower. Sherlock is auditioning a new look for Xie; John finds it tasty.





	12 Days of Ficmas 2016: Candy Canes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Jewel in the Tower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083121) by [PoppyAlexander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander). 



John rapped his knuckles against the door to Xie’s dressing room, heard the velvety, commanding, “Come!” in response. How many times had he been invited into a room with Xie, or with Sherlock, and yet still he felt a quick tremour of anticipatory fluttering in his belly, an electric shiver in his fingertips as he reached for the handle and used his opposite palm to press the door open, its lower edge shushing against the thick silk carpet.

“Only me,” he said, and they exchanged smiles in the mirror. Sherlock was standing in front of the vanity counter, wrapped and loosely tied into a satiny-looking, black cotton dressing gown. There was a spattering of pearl-and-ruby glitter drifting down the side of the sturdy throat, disappearing into the V of the neckline.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Sherlock told him. “Lock the door, please?”

John turned to secure the lock. When he turned back, Sherlock had also spun to face him and was reaching for the loops of the knotted belt.

“I’m doing an experiment with unconventional materials; perhaps you can give me some feedback.” Sherlock’s fingers rested in the tangle of the belt; John’s mouth filled and he licked his lips. Reaching for John with his free hand, Sherlock stepped slightly nearer, and it was only then that John noticed he was standing on a pretty tapestry cloth spread atop the rug, to protect it from something—a falling shower of the glitter, perhaps, which John could now see in a cascade rippling down Sherlock’s chest, even onto his belly. John let Sherlock take him by the hand and draw him close.

“Happy to oblige,” John said, grinning. “I like the lips.”

Sherlock’s mouth was painted in a barely-exaggerated version of their natural shape, rich apple red, slick and shiny and slightly sticky looking, like twice-licked rock candy. The rest of his face was his own: free of paint, showing John’s favourite lines beside his eyes, even bearing a days’ worth of whisker-stubble on his chin and upper lip.

“Thank you; it tastes as pretty as it looks,” Sherlock said smoothly. “I wonder if you think  _this_  is effective, though?” The elegant fingers traced the air in front of his throat and chest, then flicked the belt away and let the robe fall open to reveal that the sparkling trail of rich red and creamy white shards and sprinkles descended all the way down onto his belly and even into his pubic hair.

John smiled, admiring Sherlock’s pale expanse of torso, his pink nipples pert and wanting to be kissed, his cock beginning to seek approval, as well, prettily flushed in the nest of delightfully near-auburn, crinkly hair. “I’m feeling rather immediately and deeply affected, yes,” John reported, and dipped to kiss the unadorned side of Sherlock’s throat. On a deep inhale, he tasted a familiar, cool sharpness. “Candy canes?” he murmured, nuzzling.

“For Xie’s Christmas party,” Sherlock replied and his hands roved over John’s waist and back, onto his bicep. “Though I admit in this early experimental phase—” John pressed his lips beneath Sherlock’s chin, felt knife-edged glitter dust against the corner of his mouth. “—I perhaps became over-exuberant in the application.”

“It’s lovely, of course,” John agreed softly, nodding, and Sherlock’s hands behind his back slipped under his belt, gathering John’s shirt tails and beginning to pull. John whispered, “Happy Christmas to me.”

After, Sherlock was grateful for the sheet protecting the rug, and John wasn’t hungry for his tea.


End file.
